September 13th 2020
Do you keep the shades drawn on a day like today? I don't think so (have you heard Clem Snides new album? Forever Just Beyond? it's damn good). Should I be doing something more productuve with my life? It nags me. I take a breath, and for the last week every breath I take, brings smoke into my healthy, 55 year old, pink, lungs. You can't get away from it, the smoke, the fire, the Hell State Of Things. Driving to work all week has been like navigating Dante's Inferno. The State Of Things.
Fire is in the hills around us, not close enough for Amber, Gordon, and I to evacuate. Close enough for folks around here to pack a bag, and I want to ignore it all. Looking out the window, and watching the news tears at my want to ignore (ignorant). No, not us, it could never happen to us. Sure those flames are in the hills around us, but a long way away.......right? We don't pack a bag. The fire is far away in the hills, but the smoke is here. It just hangs like Greg Turner at my first apartment, he who had no friends, no where else to be.
I'm off in my own head, and thinking about writing music for strings. Sure, I can write a little symphony. Oh and I'll sing behind it. A whole new album of songs with just strings and me singing. I tip my reading glasses up on my forehead and think of the possibilities. Then I lose focus and get bored.
This morning I'm making a mix tape on my reel to reel deck. I enjoy making tapes. I think it's all I want to do this morning. I've been accumulating some instrumental albums and yes some have strings. I want a tape for morning listening. Like today before my wife wakes, just sitting with my dog, writing on my little website, listening, coffee drinking. In moments like this I will water and tend to the house plants.It's at times like these, when I'm tending things, that I feel content, like this is all I need. Garden, care for something, tend things without expectations, foster peace in my mind.
Now I tip my readers back again, and I'm off in my minds eye. In that eye I see myself in a suit, and sitting behind a piano. I'm playing with a little orchestra and everyone is amazed. Then I picture myself with a big, gray beard, and Einstein hair. I'm a composer now, leading an orchestra. Playing brilliant songs that this high school graduate, with no musical training has composed. I am revered, and loved, and admired. Then I come back to reality, slide my glasses back over my eyes, and write it all down.
And the fire is out there. The smoke is here. I've opened the blinds. With every breath I take.......................
